


Laundry Service

by bleedingrose0688



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 14:11:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15121136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingrose0688/pseuds/bleedingrose0688
Summary: The pipes froze and burst forcing Red to have to take everything to the laundromat, she takes Murphy along for the ride but he's got other ideas.





	Laundry Service

Here we are in the beginning of March and it is _still_ fucking miserable outside but at least I don’t have to drive to the hospital in this anymore since Murphy came home a couple of weeks ago.  The only real issue with him being home is the non-stop complaining and whining about being bored; just like his brother Murphy is a bit of a workaholic and when he can’t get his hands on something he starts to fidget.

Today was no different.

I was rudely awakened before the ass crack of dawn by a series of distinct, frantic knocks on the door. Thinking something was seriously wrong with one of them I flew (err…rather tumbled) from the bed in a panic, throwing the door open (as wide as the chain would allow) waiting for any number of possible scenarios to come up.  Instead I was greeted by shining blue eyes, messy hair, and a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Connor? Is everything alright?  Is he hurt?  Did you get hurt again?  Where-”

“Connor’s fine, he’s off ta work; I’m fine, not’ing’s broken.”

“Why the hell are you pounding on my door like that then? Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?”

“It’s exactly 5:27 in da morning, I wanted ta come down and see how ya were but da chain was in place when I tried ta unlock da door. Too cold ta go out on da fire escape and knock on da window.”

I couldn’t stop my jaw from hitting the floor as I looked at him incredulously. I couldn’t believe that I was roused from such a deep sleep because this Irish fuck was lonely.

“I outta tell ya to go home and slam this fucking door in your face but I know as soon as I did that and turned my back you’d start knocking again, louder than before and start waking the neighbors.”

A cheesy grin began to work its way across his face knowing that he had won this round. Shutting the door I made quick work of the chain; not bothering to open the door for him, I turned away and headed back to the bedroom hoping to catch a few more winks before the early morning rays of sunlight burst forth through the window.

“Did you put the chain back on the door?” I asked, flopping face down into the pillows.

“Yep,” was all the reply I received as the weight of the bed shifted, “t’inking dat we should move in with ya or you move in with us.”

“Boy, you must be outta your damn mind thinking shit like that. You sure you’re medically cleared to be home?  Maybe I should whack you upside the head again with another frying pan, bring ya to your damn senses.”

“Won’t be necessary.”

Again the weight of the mattress shifted and I could feel Murphy rolling onto his side, his face buried somewhere in my hair and his arms trying to pull my dead weight against him. Once I found myself in a comfortable enough position I started drifting back off to sleep, allowing the hum from the fan to fill the silence.

I should’ve known that Murphy wasn’t going to let me go back to sleep so easily though.

“You lil shit, what do you think you’re doing? Didn’t you get enough last night?”

“I have every intention of doing dat again ta ya later, plan on making up fer a lot of lost time dis weekend.”

It was becoming more apparent that the reason he came down to my place wasn’t because he was lonely…he was a horny bastard that didn’t wanna stay home and masturbate. He was trying to discretely nuzzle my neck, planting feather-light kisses where he could; the hand that was languidly resting on my hip was now sneaking past the waistline of my pants, his other was trekking southward as well aiming for one of my breasts even though his arm was firmly pinned under my head.

“Is this why you want me to move in with you two or invite you to move in here? So that if and when one or both of you are feeling needy there’s no need to wait?”

“Dat and ya can cook.”

“Trying to domesticate me, huh?” An unsolicited hiss escaped past my lips when he found my clit.  “Mind easing up with that a bit?  Still a little sore from last night.”

“Usually ya like it rough.” He murmured into my ear, thankfully pausing his ministrations.

“Usually you aren’t using your teeth. When you said you wanted to devour me last night I didn’t think-”

“I meant it literally? It’s been how long since I’ve had ya?  Couldn’t exactly do what I wanted in da hospital being hooked up ta all da machines.  Ya remember Carrie coming in dat night you and Connor went out?  T’ought I was having a heart attack or somet’ing.  Maybe I got a little overzealous last night, ya can’t say ya didn’t like it.”

“Just go to sleep Murph.”

“T’ink ya’d ever wear dat dress fer me?

“Maybe one day but not in the foreseeable future. Please, go to sleep.”

Thankfully he was good at taking the hint and understood that I was far from being in the mood at the moment for another rendezvous. Within minutes I was fast asleep and Murphy soon followed, his breath fanning my neck, his body exuding a warmth that I never wanted to escape from, although his dick seemed to have a mind of its own.  Every now and then his hips would press into mine, trying to bring me to some semblance of awareness.

At some point though I couldn’t be sure if it was a dream or reality, all I can remember from it was rolling onto my back and a familiar coil steadily tightening in the pit of my stomach until finally it snapped, forcing an orgasm from my overly abused body. Once it had passed, I thought I heard Murphy’s voice in my ear whispering but I couldn’t pick out what he was saying.  The dream-like state continued.  The heat of his body was blanketing mine, the scruff from his face was scratching deliciously against my neck causing a moan to escape.  A deep grunt from above jolted me awake enough to realize that what I was experiencing was not a dream.

“Mur-”

My words were quickly cut short with his tongue being forced down my throat, swallowing any protest I may have wanted to make (not that I would actually _want_ to).  I soon found my fingers intertwined with his, being held above my head while he continued to thrust into me.  Our sloppy kiss was cut short when his rhythm began to falter; dropping his head to my shoulder I felt his eyes screw shut as his orgasm hit him…hard.

The sun was just barely starting to come up causing me to squint when I attempted to open my eyes. Murphy continued to rest his head against my shoulder but at least he had let my hands go; his weight rested comfortably against me while he continued to fight to catch his breath.  Tentatively, I brought my hands down letting them roam across his sweat-drenched skin wondering how long he had kept this all going before I woke up.

“Sorry if I hurt ya,” he finally said kissing my shoulder before lifting his head enough to give me a proper kiss.

“You didn’t, just surprised is all. Was kinda hoping for more than a three hour break but I guess you needed an outlet for all that pent up energy, huh?”

“Didn’t mean ta wake eit’er. Was hoping ta be finished before ya woke up.”

“Well, I guess since we’re both awake we may as well get up and get the day going. Since you’re here, you can help me with the laundry.  Basement’s so damn cold the pipes burst so we gotta go down to the laundromat.”

A groan border lining agony escaped and I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh knowing full well that he despised the chore and forced Connor to do it at every chance he got. The last time the topic of laundry came up Murphy promised to do three weeks’ worth of other chores if Connor did the laundry.  Eventually it got to the point to where I stepped in and suggested that they swap work: Connor would do the laundry if Murphy would scrub the bathroom.

For anyone who had ever been brave enough to venture into their place they’d find that the bathroom was nothing more than a shower on one end of the loft and a toilet on the other. The shower was missing tiles and the floor was pretty slimy with mildew; the toilet had an ever present ring of piss stains surrounding the lid and bowl.

“I know you hate it but look at it this way, you’ll only be helping me out by carrying the basket in, and you’re not getting your hands wet. Besides the more you help me out today the quicker it all gets done.  C’mon, up and at ‘em; least you can do for waking me up twice before the sun is fully up is make me coffee.”

“One more?”

The scruff on his face was beginning to scratch against the junction between my neck and shoulder as his lips and teeth moved carefully around to the column of my throat; since he never bothered to pull out I could feel him gradually getting hard again. With the energy he managed to regain I found myself begin rolled off of my back, the cool air hitting my skin full force, sending a chill down my spine.  From my perch I was met with a smirk and a thrust that was just enough to throw me off kilter a bit.  Folding his arms behind his head Murphy gave me a look like he was expecting me to do all the work myself.

He should know by now that things don’t work like that with me.

Another thrust had me planting my hands on his chest to keep me from falling over; the expectant look was still present in his eyes as he tried to get me to move. Clenching my muscles around him I did my best to make it evident that if he wanted to cum it would be on my terms.  A smirk of satisfaction worked its way across my face when I heard the groan pass through his lips and his arms unfolded themselves from behind his head to grip the sheet beneath him.

“Keep your hands there, mister.”

“C’mon-”

“Shut up.”

Shock replaced any thought that had tried to cross his mind; he was used to me being a little dominate with him, especially considering that I was never given that opportunity with Connor, but this morning was a little more than what he was used too. This morning I was woken up twice from a dead sleep and was forced to be the subservient one.

“I’m getting up and I’m getting my coffee, if you promise to behave yourself until the laundry is done _then_ you can have all the pussy you can handle in every room you can think of, on every possible surface.  If you can’t keep control of yourself then you’re gonna wait until _I_ say you can get laid again.  Understand?”

“Dis is far from fair lass.”

“Life isn’t fair Murph, better start getting used to it.”

I gave him one final kiss before dismounting and throwing the blankets back to find what happened to my pants, wondering how in the hell Murphy managed to get those off without waking me in the first place.

Much to my surprise, I found the article of clothing I was searching for sprawled out on the floor, half-way across the room. Sighing, I left the bed to retrieve my pants and once they were securely back over my hips I shut the fan off.  Glancing in the dresser mirror, Murphy remained laying against the pillows, a look of mild satisfaction on his features and his hard on showing no signs of going anywhere soon.  Ignoring the temptation to finish the job I pulled my hair back, popped my morning birth control pill and left the room in search of my first cup of coffee.

One glance in the kitchen and I knew that I’d have to first clean up the mess my cats left for me, the contents of a full water bowl and two puke piles.

What a wonderful way to start the morning…

Another sigh escaped as I turned my attention to the quiet living room. Both cats were resting side by side on the couch on top of their favorite blanket.  Grabbing the remote off the cushion I made sure that the first channel I saw contained the morning news.  Not that much has changed from yesterday…it’s pretty much the same stories day in and day out.  The city’s murder rate has increased yet again, another frigid day with the chance of snow, surprisingly the Bruins pulled a win out of their asses after having ‘em handed to them the last 14 games.  There’s no way in hell they’re making the playoffs this year but at least they broke their losing streak.

I hesitated to pull the curtains away from the window knowing that it was frosted over but when the first rays of the morning sun hit it at just the right time it was such a beautiful sight to witness. The way the pinks and oranges would bounce off the frosted glass, creating a rainbow inside the room would cause the cats to go crazy but it was times like that when I would randomly grab a camera to try and capture the moment hoping that one day the picture could be developed and blown up to fit a canvas.

But I refrained from doing so today because my camera was in the bedroom and I didn’t feel like going back in there to retrieve it, I also didn’t feel like listening to Murphy begging me to do something of the sexual nature.

As the weather report played in the background I retreated to the bathroom and grabbed the towels that I left hanging up from the other night and went about trying to clean up the mess the cats had left for me. This is about the third or fourth time in 24 hours they knocked over the water bowl and I was increasingly growing sick of this game.  Once the water was cleaned up from the floor I washed the bowl out and refilled it but this time, before setting it down, I grabbed a small container from the pantry and set that down, then placed the water bowl inside of it, hoping this would help quell their mischievous behavior.

Re-focusing my mind to the thoughts of coffee I put the kettle on to boil and waited for the whistle to sound off while the weather report turned into the traffic, announcing where a huge pile up was taking place because one idiot on the highway didn’t know how to slow down enough to avoid hitting the median.

At least I’m off work today and didn’t have to deal with that mess.

“Hate it when ya do shit like dat.”

Looking around I found Murphy leaning against the wall, one foot crossed over the other and his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his shirt most likely still somewhere on the floor of the bedroom.

“Where’d ya go? Got dat far off look in yer eye again.”

“Who fucking knows these days. Got so much weighing on me I can’t tell if I’m here or there.  It’s not something you or Connor can help me with so there’s really no point in asking or offering.  If I need help-”

“Ya still won’t ask us, ya’d try ta push t’rough it regardless. C’mon water’s piping hot, dat kettle screams anymore and we’ll be having da neighbors pounding on da door t’inking dere’s a wee babe in here.”

Pushing off the wall Murphy walked past me to turn the stove off. I stood transfixed for a moment wondering where it was that I had let my mind wander off too this time.  I wasn’t lying when I had said that there was a lot weighing on me; there was the constant question of which bills were going to be paid when I got my next paycheck, there was the question of whether or not Connor made it to work alright, if he was managing to keep himself out of trouble, did he remember to pack a lunch or was he gonna dig into his wallet and settle for something less than filling.  Then there was the question of when the pipes in the basement were gonna get fixed and if Murphy was really well enough to be out of the hospital.

It would be something he’d never admit to but I knew that there were a few occasions in which I’d come home from work to find him on my couch passed out with one cat on his head and the other on his legs. He’d rouse himself from his slumber and try to greet me in whichever room I happen to be in regardless of whether it was the bathroom, hallway, kitchen or elsewhere and fall flat on his face.  I’d try my best to catch him but usually my efforts resulted in me falling on the floor with him on top of me.  It was in those moments that I was thankfully he didn’t hurt himself.  But guilt would take its toll on me when I couldn’t be there to catch him.

Not long after he came home, the first time he fell, he busted his nose up pretty good and had a small gash on his head. Connor thought he was drunk and laughed it off but I knew better.  Murphy had powered through physical therapy so quickly in an effort to get out of there as soon as possible that he didn’t care what the consequences would be.

“Here ya go, go sit and watch da rest of da news. I’ll get us breakfast.”

“Trying to earn some brownie points today?” I mused, taking the mug from his outstretched hand.

“If yer forcing me ta behave may as well do somet’ing dat’ll keep me outta trouble.”

“Don’t think I don’t know you got some tricks up your sleeve.”

Regardless, I returned to the living room with my coffee and sat down to watch the remainder of the morning news while the kitchen began to fill with the smell of potatoes and sausage. When Murphy was still in the hospital and I was talking with their mom on a near regular basis she let slip that of the two Murphy was the one who took to cooking like a duck to water.

_”He’s no Julia Childs but da boy tries. One year on Mothering Sunday, Connor went out and bought dis terrible smelling perfume, smelled like piss in a bottle dey tried ta cover up with roses but I wore it against me better judgment; it made him happy so I guess it was worth it.  Murphy on da ot’er hand made me breakfast in bed.  Scared da piss outta me dat da boy was in da kitchen in da first place around fire.  Made a traditional breakfast, ya know sausage, potatoes, eggs, da whole works.  Took me first bite and was surprised that it actually tasted alright.  Better den alright if I’m being honest; truthfully it was better den what I made.  Ya ever tell him I said dat I’ll deny every word of it, ya hear me lass?”_

As the news concluded I changed the channel to something that was more entertaining then got up to walk my empty cup into the kitchen. Approaching the sink I found Murphy in a tizzy over something; he was muttering to himself that everything had to be perfect.  I couldn’t stop myself from running my fingertips up the center of his spine and grinning at the fact that I was able to startle him for a change.

“It’ll taste fine, no need to get so worked up over it. You make a mean cup of coffee, breakfast should be a snap.  After we eat I’ll need for you to go back to your place and get yours and Connor’s stuff.”

“Ya like bossing me around, don’t ya?”

“Only because you listen so well.”

“Yer lucky yer you and not someone else.”

“Why’s that?”

Instead of an answer I received a side-look that I was growing accustomed to, one that was a mix of warning and danger. It was a look that kept me frozen despite the squeak of the utensil drawer being pulled open.  The telltale sound of metal clanking and the drawer closing jarred me back to my senses.

“Blow.”

“Love when you talk dirty this early in the morning.”

“You’ll be doing dat later lass, I promise but ya know what I mean.”

“But I like it hot and steamy.”

A groan filled the kitchen as I disregarded the warning and instead took my chances, burning my tongue on the mixture of hot food that sat precariously on the fork that Murphy held out, his hand positioned underneath to catch any remnants that threatened to fall onto the floor.

“Yer asking fer it, aren’t ya?”

“I always get it, one way or another. But for now let’s eat and get this laundry done.”

It didn’t take long for the breakfast concoction that Murphy created to be eaten. Not surprising, Murphy cleaned his plate pretty quick, even sneaking bits off mine when he thought I wasn’t looking.  It wasn’t surprising either when he offered to take our dishes into the kitchen and put the leftovers away.  The amount of domestication that he was exhibiting was the surprising factor (honestly a girl could get used to this).

With the dishes in the sink, Murphy re-appeared momentarily with a second cup of coffee in hand before disappearing into the bedroom to retrieve his shirt. Yanking his shirt over his head, Murphy announced that he’d be back in a few with their stuff.  When I was sure that he was on the elevator back to their place, I quickly changed then gathered up as much as I could fit in the basket and left it sitting near the door then went around trying to remember what I did with the laundry soap, wondering if it was inside my apartment somewhere or if it was in the freezing, flooded basement.

“Fucking hate doing dis shit.” He said, opening the door a few minutes later and dropping a half-full garbage bag on top of the laundry basket I had sitting next to the door.

“You’ll love the reward if you manage to keep the whining down. You have two choices: either take all this out to the car and start warming it up for me or you can brave the basement and get the laundry soap, fabric softener, and dryer sheets.  What’s it gonna be?”

The choice should’ve been an obvious one when I found myself backed up against the wall, Murphy’s hands on my hips, his lips on mine causing enough of a distraction that I failed to notice one hand sneak into the pocket of my jeans to fish my keys out.

“I’ll make sure it’s warm fer ya.”

“Jerk.”

“Da t’anks I get fer making ya coffee, breakfast, and carrying dis out ta da car.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a proper thank you later today, now get going.”  As he turned to pick up the laundry basket I couldn’t stop my hand from landing across his ass.  This deliberate action earned me a spanking of my own and a filthy promise of more to come.

Following Murphy out the door and into the elevator I offered up a silent prayer that this metal death trap didn’t break down otherwise poor Murph was gonna side a whole new side of me. The basket fell with a thud to the rusted floor as he grabbed the strap to shut the doors.  Once the respective buttons for the ground floor and basement were pressed, the cage jumped to life leaving me to stand in a corner hoping this wouldn’t break down (have I mentioned that I have an immense fear of elevators?)

“Yer shakin’, what’s wrong?”

“Thought it’d be obvious after all these months, especially with how it seems like I can’t get off this thing fast enough.”

“Ya really don’t wanna take dis piece of crap all da way down, do ya? Tell ya what, you take da clothes ta da car and I’ll go down ta da basement and get da soap.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t giving me shit right now.”

“It’s not somet’ing ta make fun of. Did ya know dat about t’irty people die from elevator-related accidents a year?  Yer more likely ta die in a-”

“Not making me feel better. If you’re serious though about going to the basement I will _gladly_ take you up on that offer.”

The elevator finally stopped on the ground floor after what seemed like an eternity; prying the doors apart Murphy picked up the basket he had previously dropped and gave it to me to carry out. Just before I stepped off the lift I heard the jangling of the keys, momentarily forgetting that the little shit took them from my pocket earlier.  Shoving them back into the pocket of my jeans I left the confines of the metal death trap with a basket full of laundry, ready to brave the cold.

Stepping outside, the first blast of winter wind hit me in the face full-force, sending a chill throughout my body. Quickly (and carefully) I dashed through the parked cars to the other side of the street to the parking garage, practically running to where my car was parked.  Unlocking the doors I threw everything into the backseat then got into the driver’s side to start the car up.  Once the ignition turned over I turned the heat on as high as it would go and proceeded to exit the garage to wait for Murphy at the front of our building (it was the least I could do).

“Didn’t have ta do dat ya know.”

“Don’t want you to slip and fall, end up back in the hospital.”

“Hate ta sound ungrateful,” he started as he slammed the passenger door shut, “but I wish ya wouldn’t worry so much.”

“Can’t help it, would rather make sure you’re alright than have to explain to your mom and Connor that something happened. I’ll back off.”

A sudden sadness started taking over despite my best efforts to hide it. I’m not his mother but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about his well-being but if he didn’t want me to worry about him then I didn’t have a choice but to stop.  Plus I’m sure Connor felt the same way, even though he would never said it out loud.

An awkward silence descended over us as I wound through the desolate streets of Boston towards the laundromat. Occasionally Murphy would try to break the silence with a joke he had heard from Rocco but it would only earn a half-hearted laugh (if that).  The only constant that kept it from being totally quiet was the radio blaring out _Radar Love_ until I pulled up to the curb and shut the car off.  Getting out I opened the door to grab the laundry from the backseat and walked it inside; I braved the cold once more to get the laundry soap, fabric softener, and dryer sheets that Murphy had grabbed and left him to sit in the car to work out whatever it was that was on his mind.

I just sat down from getting three washers loaded and started when Murphy finally decided to come inside from the cold. Rather than walking like a normal human being, he shuffled his way in, his boots scuffing the floor after every couple of steps, and his head hanging a little low.

“Didn’t mean fer it ta sound as bad as it did.” He finally said after taking a seat next me.

“I know how you meant it; you don’t want me to worry about you and Connor so I won’t. I’ll just continue being the maid who gets paid in sex and sass.”

“Dat’s not fair. I ain’t asking fer ya ta not give a shit about us, I’m asking fer ya ta trust dat we can take care of ourselves.  We’re gonna do stupid shit no matter what, just trust us dat we’ll keep each ot’er safe.  Dat’s all I’m asking.  And ya ain’t our maid eit’er.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I huffed out finding sudden interest in a broken floor tile. “For the last several months I’ve cooked, cleaned, done your laundry; how does _that_ not qualify as being a maid?  Neither of you asked me to take on that task but it happened.  I’ll admit the cooking part I did to myself when I gave you both an open invitation for a free meal but the other stuff just sort of fell into my lap.”

“So why go t’rough da trouble ta feed us in da first place?”

“Connor told me that when you first got here that you were eating cans of pork and beans you’d heat up on the stove and hot dogs. I’ve got a lot of sympathy and empathy for people, just in my nature and I can’t change that.”

“Was he drunk?”

“You bet your ass he was, went off on this whole tangent about how he threw a gun over the Longfellow, the kinds of odd jobs you’d do for money before you found something permanent at the meat plant, how you met Rocco. He was really messed up without you.  He got a shit ton of sympathy sex but when he’d sober up and I would ask him about all this shit he spewed out the night before he always said not to worry about it or he’d explain later.”

“I’ll set him straight about all dat crap he was t’rowing at ya. Connor’s right t’ough, we were living off beans and hot dogs when we got here, it was all we could afford, da money we got from da jobs we worked wasn’t much; we’d get hired fer a day or two at da most before we had ta find somet’ing else.”

The next half hour seemed to fly by as we sat in the laundromat chatting about nothing in particular. Murphy would tell me about the hardships they had endured when they first stepped onto U.S. soil, how they met Doc and Rocco, the different places they worked, and how neither of them would admit to their mom how much they’d rather be home.  I would talk about how it was growing up for me and my sister; how we’d live off beans, rice, and tortillas because of cheap they were.

Kinda funny how we grew up in similar ways and experienced the same things at different times of our lives.

“Remind me again why we aren’t doing dis back home?”

“Pipes froze and burst, remember?” I had just switched the loads and shoved everything from the three washers into an oversized dryer to save some quarters; Murphy was wandering around aimlessly while I leaned over a folding table to look outside.

“I’m bored.”

“Told ya to bring something, didn’t I?”

“Ya did but was having o’her ideas and since it’s just da two of us…”

“I’m not having sex with you in a filthy laundromat.”

“C’mon, no one else is here but us, we’ll just go round back-”

“Murph, remember what the doctor said about takin’ it easy? You can wait until we get back.”

Murphy’s chest was pressed flushed against my back, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake as they trailed along the sides of my arms, his breath on my neck, his lips gently wrapping around my ear.

“Don’t wanna wait, been waiting fer too long. Promise we’ll be quick.  _Mi corazón arde allí también_.”

He pressed himself into me further, his hands daring to venture past my arms to grasp my hips, pulling me against him. A groan escaped past my lips feeling what it was I was up against.

“Quoting a Stephen King novel will not win you extra points.”

Biting my lip, struggling to find purchase against the slippery surface of the cold metal tabletop, I continued to fight the temptation of allowing Murphy to do just about anything he wanted to me. I was ready to say damn the consequences, ready to sacrifice a quarter just to let him fuck me senseless against the washer as it hit the spin cycle.

The feel of his lips along the side of my neck had me tilting my head back against his shoulder. His left hand trailing painfully slow up my side, carefully rucking my shirt up to introduce the cooling skin there to the warmth of his other hand.  My back arching in response as his left hand continued its path upward, pausing momentarily to squeeze a breast before continuing on until the tendons in his fingers began to lightly grasp my throat, turning my head slightly to give him better access to my neck.

“We’ll end up stranded here if you don’t stop.”

“I’ll be in good company.”

“And you’ll be complaining about how hungry you are after.”

A few fingers on his right hand worked to pop the button of my jeans as he continued to assault my neck, I knew that by the time Connor got home from work that the marks would be more than evident.

“Horny bastard.” I gritted out as he slid his hand past the fabric of my underwear.

“Don’t hear ya complaining. C’mon let’s take dis elsewhere, know ya can’t hold out much longer.”

My breathing began hitching as his fingertips wound lazy circles around my clit. If I didn’t know any better I could’ve sworn that he was taking a page out of his brother’s book.  I was on the verge of release as the laziness behind his taunts grew into a determined purpose.

“Murphy…”

“I know, say it and ya can have it.”

My hands nearly flew off of the top of the table, one hand clenching tightly in Murphy’s hair the other grasping an arm to try and keep myself anchored; my hips impulsively thrusted against his hand seeking that sweet release I was desperately chasing after.

“Please?”

“Love it when ya ask so nice, but ya’ve gotta do better den dat. Now if ya want it, say it.”

“Murphy, please?”

“All ya have ta do is say it.” He purred, licking the shell of my ear, trying to coax it out of me.

“If you’re not gonna let me cum then take your hand outta my pants. I told you this morning if you could control yourself you could have all the pussy you could handle.  You can either let me cum and you’ll be forgiven or take your hand outta my pants and you’ll get nothing when we get back.  Choose wisely.”

A feral growl rumbled and escaped from his throat before I found myself suddenly slammed down onto the table, the side of my face being pressed deeply into the frigid metal. Murphy’s hand suddenly withdrew from the depths of my jeans and jerked the zipper down.

“Stay,” he growled out.

The weight of his body disappeared from mine just long enough for both of his hands to yank my jeans down just enough for him to do anything he wanted. I heard him fiddling around with his belt for only a moment and then his hand on the back of neck, forcing me to remain bent over the table.

“Hope ya like it rough, fast, and dirty.”

I never had the chance to process his words before he thrusted into me, banging my hips against the sharp metal edge; the pace he set was nothing short of brutal as he snaked a hand up my spine and wrapped my hair around his fist, forcing my head up and back. A small whimper escaped when his other hand briefly left my hip and landed a hard smack against one cheek, the crack echoing against the empty space.  Another unexpected smack against the other cheek had me jumping a little, an action that would no doubt cost me later today or tonight.

As Murphy continued to thrust into me I could feel the table legs shake under our collective weight until finally they began to screech and scrape along the floor; the sound coming across like nails on a chalkboard as it reached my ears. Regardless, he kept going and if I didn’t know any better he started picking the pace up even more.

Finally he unwound his fist from my hair, forcing my face back against the metal; his other hand found my clit easily, rubbing hard, fast circles around it in an attempt to get me to finish with him.

“Mine.” He growled out.

His thrusting was beginning to falter; before I knew it Murphy had his teeth clamping down on my neck as he spilled into me. The sweat beading along his forehead drip-dropped onto my collarbone, mixing with mine as it travelled down my chest.

“Didn’t hurt ya, did I?” he finally asked, taking his weight off of me.

“It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before; gonna be some pretty big bruises I’ll have to explain to your brother later but as long as you didn’t rip a hole into my neck I’ll be good.”

Pushing off the table, I righted my shirt then hitched my jeans back over my hips and fastened the button; it was just in time too as someone came bustling in with a basket of their own laundry. They made a beeline for one of the washers I had emptied out and quickly had it loaded; they were gone just as quickly as they had come in, their car slipping and sliding past the window until it was out of sight.

Glancing down at the floor I noticed that the table we had been bent over had moved a good inch or two from where it was originally.

“T’ink we should scoot it back or just leave it?”

“Leave it; if someone comes in after us and uses it maybe they’ll push it back to where it belongs. Besides, the stuff in the dryer should be done if you want to help me get it out.”

Grabbing the basket I pulled open the dryer door, a blast of lavender scented steam hit me in the face as I started pulling clothes out. With each pull I checked to make sure everything was dry.  Murphy sidled up to me, taking the basket that was perched against my hip and walked it back to the table, letting it thud against the metal.

“Ya sure I didn’t hurt ya?”

“You said it was gonna be rough, fast, and dirty. I’m used to you clamping down on my neck when you cum but I wish it hadn’t been against that table.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s fine, if you wanna make it up to me, when we get back you can help clean the blood off my hips.”

Turning away from the dryer I saw the look of confusion glaze over his eyes; tentatively, Murphy ran his fingertips along the edge of the metal, quickly realizing that it was a sharp edge he retracted his fingers, the look of confusion replaced with one of regret.

“Cheap bastards.” He sighed.

“Probably did it to deter delinquents like us from fucking in the laundromat.” I teased, snagging up the basket and heading towards the door to put it in the backseat of the car.

“Probably, we should get going ‘fore it gets too bad.” Murphy followed close behind with the soaps and the dryer sheets, tossing them in the back on top of the clean clothes.  “T’ink I could get used ta doing laundry if it goes like dis all da time.”

Slamming the door shut, I climbed into the driver’s side and turned the ignition over. Switching the heat on I let the car sit idle, giving it a chance to circulate.  Again the radio started playing some forgotten song and as the instruments thrummed in the background I shut my eyes letting the cold dissipate.

“Yer t’inking awful hard about somet’ing.”

“Just reminding myself how thankful I should be that you and Connor plopped yourselves into my life. Never thought I’d find myself having sex with anyone in a laundromat that’s for sure.”

“Makes two of us. C’mon, let’s get back, freezing me balls off.”

Putting the car in drive we wound through the abandoned snow covered streets of Boston back home. Approaching a red light, a thought came to mind: maybe Murphy would be willing to fold the laundry in exchange for some sexual favors.


End file.
